


Distraction

by Katriel (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: DFAB reader, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Fingering, heart goo, vibrating fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:51:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Katriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Distract me,” you had asked Mettaton; pleaded, almost. Everything felt like it was going to shit lately: friends; work; even the fact you were due to perform live on Mettaton’s hit show was causing you more dread than anticipation lately. You just… needed something to take your mind off it all.</p>
<p>Being shoved up against a wall and having a gorgeous robot kissing the hell out of you was not precisely what you had in mind, but <i>fuck</i>, it was good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Not only is this shameful reader insert fic, it's PWP smutty reader insert fic.
> 
> I did want to create an entirely separate account to post this on, but it seems it is not to be. A pseud will have to do. I deeply apologise to anyone who may stumble across this after following my work in my usual fandom.
> 
> It's 'No Shame November', apparently, so what the heck. I've wasted too much energy being self-conscious about this already. I'm posting the thing, fight me.
> 
> (Mind you, I don't know why you'd be that surprised. I've only ever written plotless smut, it's not like I have _standards_ , ha. Aside from the whole reader insert awkwardness, this fic is probably one of the most vanilla things I've ever written.)
> 
> (I'll change that next time. >3)
> 
> Originally posted at http://katrielsr.tumblr.com/post/133619734714/distraction-mettatonreader
> 
> I am a beacon of sin.

This was what you needed. This was exactly what you needed. God.

“Distract me,” you had asked Mettaton; pleaded, almost. Everything felt like it was going to shit lately: friends; work; even the fact you were due to perform live tomorrow on Mettaton’s hit show was causing you more dread than anticipation lately. You just… needed something to take your mind off it all.

Being shoved up against a wall and having a gorgeous robot kissing the hell out of you was not precisely what you had in mind, but  _fuck_ , it was good.

He’s a good head or more taller than you, which would have made the kissing awkward, except that he’s picked you up by the back of your thighs and is holding you there with no effort at all. (He can manhandle you so easily, and it’s glorious.) Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, legs hanging over his hips.

And you’re kissing him. There is an awful lot of kissing.

His lips are surprisingly soft. You don’t know quite what they’re made out of, but that’s some high quality shit right there. They even adjust to the temperature; the more you kiss him, the more your warmth infuses into him, until you can’t even tell he was anything other than body temperature.

The kisses are firm and insistent. Not quite bruising, but close. You kiss back roughly, desperate and needy, and you hear the softest chuckle coming from his speakers.

He breaks away for the smallest moment, tilting your chin up and surveying you with an amused, bright gaze. Literally bright. The eye not covered by his hair is practically glowing neon pink.

You take in air in deep, shaking gasps, face flushed. You haven’t even done anything more than a bit of making out, but god _damn_. There’s no way you can deny now, as much as you might have tried to in the past. You have the fucking hots for a robot.

He leans in again. The touch of his lips is slow and deliberate, and you sigh as they move against your own. He coaxes your lips apart, and then his tongue is in your mouth and  _yes_.

It’s like his lips, just the right side of perfectly designed. It feels oddly cool at first, but it’s such a minor thing, and so easily overlooked when he’s exploring every inch of your mouth. You return the favour, of course.

You can feel yourself starting to gasp with want, and you’re probably pressing up a little too shamelessly where your hips are pressed against him but, god. You never want him to stop kissing you like that.

He presses you against the wall, holding you in place with his hips so that his hands are free to touch you. One of them stays on your thigh, rubbing the length between your knee and your hip. The other slides beneath your shirt, grazing over sensitive skin and making you shiver and moan against him.

Still. Two can play at that game.

You loosen your hold on him so you can run a hand through his hair. So soft. Even though you know it’s synthetic, it feels better than the reality anyway. You tangle your fingers into the fibres and pull him tighter against your mouth.

Your other hand gradually slips down to rest on his chest, toying with the dial there. You don’t know what it does, so you don’t turn it just yet, but you stroke over it and he seems to appreciate that anyway, judging by the low, pleased hum he makes.

Then your fingers are hovering over his stomach, over the container that houses his heart, and  _oh_. There are rumours – not that that narrows it down, there’s a million rumours about Mettaton. But you’ve heard a lot of people speculate that his heart is… a very erogenous zone.

You break the kiss to glance down. The heart almost looks like it’s pulsing, softly glowing the same bright pink as Mettaton’s eyes. And it’s— oh god. The rumours are right. It looks almost slick with some kind of pink goo, though it’s not dripping. Yet. Maybe you can make it.

Your fingers splay across the container and you glance up at Mettaton with the question clear in the flush of your face and the desire in your eyes.

“If you want, darling,” he purrs.

Oh, you want.

Mettaton lets you back down until your feet are on the floor again. You slide down further, until you’re on you knees, and his heart is right there in front of you. You can feel your heart hammering in anticipation.

There’s a small hiss as the container opens, leaving his heart exposed. Gingerly, you reach in to touch it.

Soft. That’s your first thought. It’s incredibly soft, almost spongy, and yeah, it’s kind of slick as well, though not hugely so. Just enough that your fingers glide smoothly over the surface. You run your fingers all the way down, and you could swear you hear him breathe out a low sigh of pleasure above you. He doesn’t even need to breathe, but that’s what it sounds like.

So you do it again, a little harder, and this time you can feel him shiver.

Oh, yeah, this is a thing.

You cup his heart in the palm of your hand, stroking your thumb over it. Firm and smooth, and when you glance up he has his head tossed back, those deliciously sharp teeth buried in his lip.

“Ooohhh yesss,” Mettaton hisses. “That’s good.”

His voice sounds like pure sex. Well, even more than usual.

You brace one hand on his hip, the other still rubbing at his heart. You give a gentle squeeze, and Mettaton fucking  _moans_.

Oh, damn. That was an actual, honest-to-god moan, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more arousing sound in your life.

You want to wring that sound out of him even more.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss against his heart. It’s definitely not bad. There’s that pink goo on your lips – and there’s definitely a lot more of it now than there was before – but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s almost kind of sweet. You think you’ll add cherry bubblegum into those heated debates over what Mettaton would taste like.

The next kiss is hot and open-mouthed, as is the one after. You lick at his heart, lapping up the pink goo, and there’s that glorious moan again. The sound of it makes you clench, pure want singing through your veins. Oh,  _yes_.

You keep going at it, licking and sucking at his heart, rubbing in between, and those noises only get louder. He’s gasping, moaning, murmuring encouragements and “oh,  _darling_ ” when he can find the voice to speak, his fan whirring overtime trying to cool him down. He leans over to brace himself against the wall behind you. You don’t know if robots can even go weak-kneed, but he seems to need the extra stability, and you certainly don’t mind the way he’s looming over you.

His fingers fist into your hair – maybe a little too tightly, he’s forgetting his strength – but the short burst of pain only makes you even more turned on. He presses your face into his heart.

It’s definitely dripping now. There’s pink goo all over your hands, on your lips and in your mouth. More of it dribbles down your chin every time you pull away to breathe.

“Mettaton,” you groan. You can’t believe how much you’re getting off on this. You’re fucking aching with need, but at the same time you don’t want to stop. Can you make him cum from this? How does that even work for him?

You don’t get a chance to find out. He pulls you up, pinning your wrists above your head, and then he’s kissing you hungrily. You’re helpless to do anything but moan into his mouth, desperately pressing back against him.

His leg is between yours, and you’re not thinking at all, you just grind down against it.  _Fuck_. The pressure of it feels incredible, and so, so good to finally have some contact where you need it. You groan, embarrassingly loud but you’re too far gone to care.

“Mm,  _yes_ , gorgeous,” he murmurs filthily in your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“P-please!” God, your voice is a mess. “Touch me… ahh, Mettaton,  _please_ , I need…”

You’re putting on a damn good show, and you don’t even need to act. Mettaton seems delighted by it. Delighted enough that he edges his hand down into your panties and  _oh fuck_. You buck your hips up into his touch, not even caring about how damn wet you are.

His mouth his all over you, searing hot kisses pressed against your lips, your shoulders, your throat. You can feel the threat of his fangs behind them, and it makes you shiver with lust.

“Are you ready, darling?”

You toss your head back, hissing out something that is meant to be a “yes”.

Mettaton gives you a knowing, deliciously evil smile, somehow making it work despite how damn debauched he’s looking himself.

And then you’re crying out, the pleasure bursting through you almost to intense to bear.

Fuck.  _Fuck_. His fingers… fuck. They vibrate. They fucking vibrate, and they’re pressed right against your clit now, and you could almost sob with how amazing it feels. Oh, god. No one prepared you for vibrating fingers.

“Mettaton!” you scream.

He keeps his thumb pressed right there, and now you know why he has your wrists pinned because you can’t help but writhe against him. Two fingers rub over your entrance, and then he’s sliding them inside you, and they’re still fucking vibrating and you swear you’re doing to die in the best possible way.

Honestly, you don’t know how you manage to gather any semblance of thought at all. But there’s one more thing you want to do.

You give a pointed tug of your wrist. You try to phrase it as a request, but all that comes out of your mouth are moans. Somehow Mettaton seems to understand though, and releases his grip, wrapping his arm around your waist instead.

Your hand drops down to his heart, and he gives you one of those utterly show-stopping, gorgeous smiles that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re sweet,” he purrs. You give a squeeze to his heart and he cuts off into a moan.

Those fingers curl inside you, with purpose now, and  _fuck_. He’d stroking you from the inside, and you swear those vibrations are even more intense than before. It’s hard to focus, so damn hard, but you keep stroking at his heart as well, even though your fingers are trembling.

“Yeeeeesss, oh, god, Mettaton,  _yes_.”

Your words turn utterly incomprehensible as he manages to find the most sensitive spot inside you. His fingers are vibrating right there, and his thumb is still rubbing over your clit. You clench down around him, screaming his name as orgasm hits you hard.

It’s a good thing he’s still got his arm around you, because your legs buckle beneath you and if he wasn’t holding you up you would have probably collapsed. Your whole body feels like it’s trembling, utterly overloaded with pleasure.

You kind of forget you’re still holding his heart. You hear Mettaton groan emphatically as you squeeze him, maybe a bit too tightly but apparently he gets off on being hurt just a little as well, because that seems to be enough to push him over the edge.

Your vision is fuzzy around the edges and everything feels like floating white sparks of pleasure, but you’re vaguely aware of Mettaton making those glorious goddamn sex noises. His entire form shudders as every electrical pathway lights up at once.

There’s also a lot more goo all over your hand now. It’s kind of sparkly.

You sigh as Mettaton’s fingers slide out of you. Deciding that staying upright is far too much effort, you lean back against the wall and sink to the floor.

“ _Damn_ ,” you say. Understatement of the century.

Mettaton seems inclined to join you, but instead he scoops you up and relocates the two of you to the plush, oversized couch at the other side of the dressing room. (You should recommend Mettaton gets a bed put into his dressing room. You’re surprised there isn’t one already.)

He lounges against the black leather and pulls you up against him. The metal is still warm, though the noise of the fan has died down an awful lot. Just as well, really.

“Feeling better now, darling?”

“Mmn,” you agree. You really ought to get cleaned up. Your clothes are all over the place and you’re covered in that sticky pink goo, but honestly you cannot be bothered to move.

He smiles at you, and you blush all over again when he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Rest up a while, sweetheart. We’ve still got half an hour until your rehearsal.”

Half an hour to rehearsal.

Oh. Shit.


End file.
